


you were under the bower with a sail and a song

by eneiryu



Series: mistakes aren't always regrets [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, And Neither Really Is Theo, Liam Isn’t Complaining, M/M, of a sort, porn with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eneiryu/pseuds/eneiryu
Summary: Corey and Mason’s affection for each other is so nauseatingly omnipresent that Theo’s grown entirely inured to its presence at the base of his skull, but this is something else.
Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken
Series: mistakes aren't always regrets [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642510
Comments: 38
Kudos: 150





	you were under the bower with a sail and a song

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, Day 3 of apparently-smutty-sequels week. Will there be a Day 4? Who knows. We'll see what my brain decides and/or what people prompt me.
> 
> So! On that note, I suppose, if you have prompts--smutty or no--let me know.

Theo’s just finished grabbing a glass out of one of his cupboards when it hits him like a punch to the gut; he barely manages to slam the glass down onto the counter instead of dropping it as he bows forward, gasping.

“Theo?” Liam calls from outside in the living room, concern clear in his voice.

Theo tries to get the breath to answer, to yell back _everything’s fine_ , because the absolute _last_ thing he needs right now is the walking peanut gallery that Liam embodies coming into the kitchen and seeing him like this, but he _can’t_ , because another wave of knee-buckling arousal _slams_ into him like a tidal wave, and he has to smother a moan in the forearms that he folds one over the other, and braces his forehead against. _Jesus_ christ, he thinks desperately, and can’t stop his hips from bucking up against empty air.

He’s so awash in the sensation of it, his mind practically _swimming_ in the lust, and desire, radiating out from the base of his skull, that he misses it entirely when Liam steps into the kitchen after all. But then Liam opens his mouth and says, “Uh, Theo…?,” and Theo’s eyes snap back open.

He goes to answer, to snap _what_ or something equally sharp, but he realizes the split second before he does that if he opens his mouth, it isn’t a snarled response that’s going to come out. Squeezing his eyes shut, he turns his face back against his stacked forearms on the counter and _bites_ at the meat of his arm, muffling the moan that he can’t quite manage to swallow back.

But the irritation and the knee-jerk embarrassment give him something to latch onto, and latch onto them he does, using them as touchpoints as he concentrates on bricking up the sensations spilling out from the base of his skull like a dam that’d given way, bit by overwhelming, breathtaking bit.

It works, for the most part. Theo collapses against the counter, at least able to _think_ , now, and pants into his forearms; into the damp patch of his sleeve, wet from his mouth and creased from his teeth.

“Your best friend and his boyfriend,” he finally manages to explain a few dragging seconds later, his voice tight with irritation and— _something else_ , “are apparently _exhibitionists_.”

He raises his head in time to see Liam’s brow furrow, and then almost immediately smooth out as Liam’s mouth stretches in a grin, wide and helpless and _amused_. “Oh, no _way_ ,” he says gleefully. “That weird pack connection thing of yours works like that?”

Theo closes his eyes and rolls his forehead back down against his forearms, resigned. “Apparently,” he mutters, and has to brace himself against another cresting wave of pleasure; not as strong, and _not his own_ , but there, and simmering low in his gut.

He can’t stop his hitching breath, though, and apparently neither can Liam. Theo looks sharply over at him.

Liam catches him looking, and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth; another spike of _something_ jolts through Theo at the sight, and Theo honestly has no idea if it’s bleed-over from Mason and Corey, or—not. He stares at Liam, and Liam stares back at him.

“You’re feeling what they’re feeling?” Liam finally asks, a little hesitantly. A little hesitantly, and with his pupils blown _wide_ ; Theo feels another moan rise in his throat, suddenly.

He means to make a sarcastic comment. To tell Liam to go ask Mason and Corey if he’s so curious, but what falls out of his mouth instead is, “It’s not—it’s not that detailed.” He has to suck in another sharp breath as Mason does _something_ to Corey, or vice-versa, and the surge of sensation briefly overwhelms the block he’d put up before it settles back down again. “It’s just, _jesus_. It’s just sensation.”

“Huh,” Liam says, and shifts his weight from foot to foot. “And you can’t—you can’t block it out?”

“Mason’s stronger than I am,” Theo answers tightly, his eyes squeezing shut again as another wave of pleasure crashes over his mental barrier, and washes over him.

“Huh,” Liam says again, just as cagey, and just as meaningless. Theo looks over at him again, eyes narrowing.

“You’re getting _off_ on this,” he accuses, his voice breathier than he’d like it to be. 

Liam colors. “Yeah, okay, _pot_ ,” he snaps back, and gestures at Theo’s current, disheveled state. 

“I’m getting pure _sensation_ beamed directly into my brain,” Theo counters, irrationally annoyed. “I don’t have a _choice_.”

“Yeah, well,” Liam shoots back. “Maybe I don’t _either_.”

His nostrils flare as he says it. Theo freezes as he sees it, and there’s no lying to himself this time; the arousal that burns hot and fast through him is all his own.

“Oh,” he manages to say, stupidly. “Oh, right.”

Liam bites his lip again, and when he exhales it _shudders_ loose of him. Theo feels a sympathetic shudder shake through his own body.

“So,” Liam finally says, apparently attempting to sound aggressively normal, and sounding everything but. “So does that mean you _don’t_ want help with that?” He gestures towards Theo’s crotch.

“You,” Theo barely manages to say. “What?” 

Liam flushes again, and shrugs as he looks away, but he sneaks a look almost immediately back at Theo, and his nostrils flare again just as his shoulders heave; Liam taking a huge gulp of air, Theo realizes, though the realization feels like it’s coming from very far away. 

_This is insane_ , Theo thinks. 

“Get over here,” he says aloud.

Liam practically _slams_ into him, and this kiss is _nothing_ like the one they’d shared in the vacation home’s bathroom. For one thing Liam moves so fast that Theo barely has time to start turning around, and he ends up pinned against the counter, Liam pressed up _hard_ against his back. Theo moans in surprise and more than a little arousal, his hips jerking forward against the counter and then _back_ against Liam, who sucks in a sharp breath and grinds forward just as desperately. 

Theo groans as he realizes that Liam is just as hard as is.

“Jesus _christ_ ,” Liam swears, and wraps one arm up and over Theo’s shoulder so that he can grab Theo’s chin, and use it to force Theo’s head to turn further, to turn _more_ , twisting him further around to the other side so that Liam can kiss him deeper, his tongue stroking deep into Theo’s mouth.

Theo moans into his mouth, and then stiffens and arches back against him with a helpless, wide-mouthed gasp when the mental block he’d built gives way just a little, just _enough_ , and pleasure comes _pouring_ into him. Liam jerks them both reflexively forward to regain their balance as he does it, and Theo can’t help it; he collapses forward, bent over the counter, and _pants_ as the combined sensation overwhelms him.

The movement drives him back harder against Liam, who sucks in his own sharp breath and drops his hands to Theo’s hips, his fingers digging in _hard_. “Jesus,” he groans. “What the hell was _that?_ ”

“I can’t,” Theo pants. “I can’t block it out as well when, when—” He cuts off on another moan, either because another wave of pleasure crests over him or because Liam grinds helplessly forward against him, or both.

“Oh,” Liam says, “Oh, well,” and he starts to lean over, his chest brushing Theo’s back and his hands sliding around to Theo’s fly as he puts his mouth next to Theo’s ear, and suggests, “Maybe don’t, then?”

Theo stiffens as Liam’s breath skates over his ear and Liam’s words go bolting down his spine, and then he shudders and all at once slumps, boneless, against the counter. 

And Liam—Liam recognizes it for the surrender that it is.

He groans and opens his mouth and _bites_ at Theo’s shoulder, just as his hands start to get busy unbuttoning and unzipping Theo’s jeans. Theo pushes back against him, expecting Liam to put his hands on his hips and start working his jeans, and boxers down, but Liam doesn’t. Instead he just slides his hands up, up onto Theo’s stomach, before reversing direction and sliding them _down_ into the open _V_ of Theo’s jeans, sliding underneath his boxers and finally, _finally_ taking hold of Theo’s hard cock.

“Liam, what?” Theo gasps, but Liam just turns his face back towards Theo’s ear and shushes him. 

“Trust me,” he breathes, and starts to work his hands.

He also has to almost immediately drop one of them down to hold Theo’s hips steady as Theo bucks into his grip. The movement drives Theo’s ass back harder against Liam’s own hard cock, and Theo can’t help it; he jerks his hips forward into the tight circle of Liam’s fingers and then back against Liam. Liam sucks in a sharp breath and wraps his arm more firmly around Theo’s hips, stilling them; Theo barely manages to swallow back a whine.

“I said _trust_ me,” Liam chastises, sounding a little amused, and this time holds Theo’s hips steady as he starts to work his hand wrapped tight around Theo’s cock again.

But the angle’s awkward, and limited by Theo’s jeans and boxers still on his hips, and Theo bites off a frustrated noise. “Liam,” he moans, but Liam just noses his way across Theo’s cheek until he can kiss him again. 

“ _Trust_ me,” he says a third time, and Theo shudders, and moans, and slumps helplessly back down over the counter.

That makes the angle even _worse_ , initially, until Liam takes a step back and _drags_ Theo’s hips with him, stretching him out along the counter and giving Liam even more room to move. It also, Theo realizes—after he gasps and drops his head down between his bracing arms—lets him look down the length of his own body to see where Liam is working him, his hand still hidden inside Theo’s boxers and framed in the open _V_ of his jeans, but perfectly _visible_ pumping up and down under the fabric.

“Holy shit,” Theo rasps hoarsely.

“See?” Liam says, more than a little smugly, and straightens up just enough that he can brace a hand on Theo’s lower back, force his hips to bow a little further out to give him even _more_ room; Theo turns his face against his own bicep, and _bites_. 

It does little to smother the small, helpless sounds he can’t help making.

It doesn’t help that the closer he gets to tipping over the edge, the more incapable he is of shoring up the barrier he’d thrown up between his mind and Corey’s and Mason’s, and soon enough it becomes a feedback loop, their pleasure bleeding into his and sending the pool of sensation low in his gut winching tighter, and tighter, until finally Theo gasps out, “Liam, I-I…”

He can’t finish, cutting off on a long, drawn-out moan, but Liam just stammers, “God, yes. _Please_ ,” and that’s it: Theo’s gone.

When he comes back to himself, he’s still slumped bonelessly over the counter, and Liam is slumped just as heavily across his back. Liam’s hand is still in his pants—which feel absolutely sticky, and gross—and Liam’s hips are still pressed flush to his, but he’s not, Theo realizes with a surprise, hard anymore.

“Seriously?” Theo says, turning to look at Liam over his shoulder.

Liam eyes him right back. “You sure you want to be giving me shit right now?” He warns, and gives Theo’s softening cock a light squeeze.

Theo gasps, and then gasps _again_ when a new wash of sensation—the block he’d put up between the connection between himself and Mason and Corey just _decimated_ —just _crashes_ over him. He squeezes his eyes shut as his hips buck, helplessly, and even the feeling of being completely oversensitive can’t puncture the rising tide of _arousal_ that swells in his gut. 

Now it’s _Liam’s_ turn to look incredulously at him, and say, “Seriously?”

“Take it up,” Theo grits out, “with your best friend and his boyfriend.”

But Liam just doesn’t look upset; he looks _impressed_. “Go Corey and Mason,” he announces absently, seemingly to the universe at large, and then he looks back down at Theo, and his gaze sharpens. “I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully. “I thought I might _take it up_ with you.”

Theo stares at him. 

“Was that supposed to be a _pun?_ ” He groans, but he follows when Liam’s only response is to grin widely and grab his wrist, and start tugging him out of the kitchen.

It’s _agonizing_ ; Theo’s wet jeans boxers and jeans chafe against his quickly hardening cock, and maybe it should be uncomfortable, but as helplessly overwhelmed as Theo is, it _isn’t_. He gives a breathy moan just a few steps out of the kitchen and has to drag Liam to a stop as he hunches over, his free hand on his knee as he pants, and shudders through the sensation. 

“God, _look_ at you,” Liam moans, but Theo doesn’t think _looking_ is all Liam is doing; he can hear him take a huge, deep breath, and let it out on a whine.

“Liam, I-I…” Theo starts to stammer. 

Luckily Liam doesn’t seem to need him to finish; he suddenly surges forward against Theo—forcing Theo to straighten up as he does it—as he whispers, “I’ve got you, it’s okay,” against his mouth. 

He also drops his hands to Theo’s hips.

Theo moans again as Liam finally, _finally_ starts working his jeans and boxers down his legs. He has to lean on Liam’s shoulders as Liam gets them down by his feet, his knees wobbling as he goes to step out of them. Liam turns his face and sucks a wet, warm, _biting_ kiss to one of Theo’s bracing arms as he does, and Theo’s fingers tighten _hard_ around his shoulders.

“What, what exactly is the plan here, Machievelli?” Theo pants as Liam straightens, and takes Theo’s shirt with him as he goes.

“Well,” Liam says, ignoring the flimsy insult. He steps forward to press his hips to Theo’s—and to give Theo something to hold onto—as he strips his own shirt over his head, and then stops to wrap his hands around Theo’s face, and kiss him deep, and thoroughly, and lingering, after he’s dropped it to the side. Finally he pulls back, and meets Theo’s hooded, glazed eyes. “I thought I could put you on your back on that disgusting abandoned couch that you really need to get rid of, and fuck you.”

Theo stares at him, open-mouthed and with almost all thought immediately sand-blasted from his brain, but. “My couch isn’t _disgusting_ ,” Theo defends automatically; Liam just rolls his eyes, and shoves him backwards a few stumbling steps, and then a few more 

The back of Theo’s knees hit the couch and he sits, his eyes immediately darting up to Liam’s. Liam just grins, slow and syrupy, and takes one step forward, then another, until he’s standing in front of Theo dressed only in his jeans. Theo’s eyes flicker down to the hard bulge of Liam’s cock instead, and he moans as he realizes that this close he can _smell_ Liam; smell his earlier release, and the sharper, hotter smell of his slow-simmering, reignited arousal.

“Jesus, Liam,” he gasps helplessly, and leans forward to put his tongue to Liam’s stomach.

Liam groans and bows over him a little, apparently having not expected that, and his hands fly immediately to Theo’s hair, sliding into the strands and _gripping_. The tug of his fingers in his hair send the pleasure—both his own, and _not_ his own—ratcheting higher up in his gut, and Theo can’t help it; he groans and brings his hands up to quickly unbutton and unzip Liam’s jeans, and get them worked over his hips. 

And then he stops there, too impatient, too _desperate_ , and takes Liam in his mouth.

“Jesus _christ_ ,” Liam swears, and this time bends nearly in _half_ , over him, his hand flying up to brace on the back of the couch; Theo can hear the _thump_ it makes as it impacts the cushion. “Theo,” he chants, “Theo, Theo,” as Theo starts to bob his head, to press his tongue up against the underside of Liam’s cock; to start taking him as deep as he can.

Which turns out to be pretty _deep_ , after all; Liam moans breathily as Theo’s lips touch his stomach, and Theo’s throat flutters around the head of his cock.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Liam groans, and Theo feels himself grinning, feeling almost irrationaly _victorious_ ; fucking _finally_ he was getting a little of his own back, Liam’s amusement at his predicament be damned.

“Jesus, jesus,” Liam keeps up his chant, and Theo almost loses himself in it, right up until the hand Liam still has in his hair tightens, and starts tugging him off. Theo moans a protest, and Liam stops, his fingers spasming. “I said I wanted to _fuck_ you,” he groans, sounding almost upset by his own insistence. “I’m not going to be able to _do that_ if—”

But he cuts off with a startled gasp, because at his words—at the reminder—Theo’s eyes had snapped open, and he’d pulled _himself_ the rest of the way off. Liam glares down at him, the hand he’d had in Theo’s hair now circled _tight_ around the base of his own cock.

“I hate you a little bit,” he tells Theo, grousing, but Theo… 

Theo just grins, and twists as he falls backwards, putting one leg up on the arm of the couch and sprawling the other wide. He raises his eyebrows at Liam once he’s done it, a challenge. “Well?” He says. “I’m on my back, on my _disgusting abandoned_ couch.”

Liam just gapes at him, and then he closes his mouth and comments, “You know, in hindsight, that was a spectacularly unsexy thing to say.”

Theo stares at him, incredulous. “Liam.”

Liam stares back at him, and then he blinks, and gives himself a visible little shake. “Well, _jesus_ ,” he complains. “You expect me to _think_ clearly right now? With you? Like _that?_ ”

Theo just raises his eyebrows.

Liam slaps his hands up to cover his face, and groans. “Jesus, jesus, alright. Do you even _have_ anything?” He suddenly asks, a little manic as he drops his hands away from his face to stare intently at Theo.

Theo frowns, initially confused. “Seriously?” He shrills when he realizes. “I was a little focused on _not getting caught by Argent and dying_ to be buying _lube!_ ”

Liam makes a face. “God, did you have to _say his name_... Not to mention that you’re the one who’s the like, super spy chimera _boy scout_ , why _wouldn’t_ — _!_ ” He cuts himself off, his hands coming straight out in front of himself like he was directing traffic to stop. “Okay. Okay, we can do this,” he says firmly, over-calm. “Wait,” he suddenly orders, “right there.”

He scrambles the rest of the way out of his jeans—nearly face-planting once or twice—and then darts away, towards the stairs up to Theo’s loft. Theo stares after him, disbelieving.

“What the fuck, Liam!” He yells, but Liam just yells back, muffled, “Wait! Right there! No moving, seriously!”

He reappears at the top of the stairs second later, a bottle he’d clearly retrieved from Theo’s bathroom in his hands. Theo’s almost too distracted by squinting at it to laugh at the absolutely comedic sight of Liam hurrying down the stairs clearly _painfully_ hard, but it’s too absurd; he snorts out a laugh just as Liam scrambles back to a stop in front of him.

Liam frowns down at him for a second, before apparently catching on. “Shut up,” he mutters, and drops the bottle down on Theo’s stomach. Theo goes a little cross-eyed looking at it. 

“Lotion, Liam, seriously?” He comments, and glares up at Liam; it loses a little of its force when he realizes that Liam had used the intervening time to kneel between Theo’s still-spread legs. 

“What, it’ll work,” Liam counters, more than a little distracted as he runs his hands down the inside of Theo’s thighs; Theo shudders. “Mason told me.”

“ _Mason_ told you?” Theo repeats incredulously, and then he shuts up _fast_ with a harsh gasp as Liam leans down and mouths at Theo’s cock lying hard on his stomach.

“Yeah, he’s a good friend,” Liam replies absently, and reaches forward for the lotion bottle as he leans back down and takes Theo’s cock in his mouth.

“Apparently so,” Theo agrees drunkenly, and lets it go as he lets his head fall back with a _thunk_ , his whole body lighting _up_ with sensation.

And it’s not just his body, either; whatever meager effort he’d managed to dedicate to trying to shore up the collapsed wall between himself and Mason and Corey, it’s blown the rest of the way to smithereens as Liam presses his first slick finger to Theo’s rim. Groaning helplessly, Theo spreads his legs even further and just tries to ride out the absolute _surge_ of sensation he experiences, his own pleasure tangled up with Mason’s tangled up with Corey’s and practically indistinguishable. Liam moans in turn, the sensation of it vibrating up Theo’s cock, and at that point Theo has to concentrate every scrap of willpower he has left on not finishing right then, and there.

In desperation Theo slams a hand down on Liam’s shoulder. “Liam,” he pants. “Liam, I _can’t_.”

Liam freezes, and quickly pulls off and pulls back, looking panicked. But then he gets a good look at Theo’s face, and seems to realize what Theo means; the smirk that takes his face after that is more than a little smarmy. 

“Oh, _really?_ ” He says, and turns his face to _bite_ at one of Theo’s bent knees; Theo kicks him less-than-gently in the hip. “Ow,” Liam says, like an agreement, and raises his hands in surrender—one of them slick, and glistening with lotion—and dives back down, though this time he leaves Theo’s cock alone, and instead just wraps his free arm under Theo’s leg and then over his hips, pinning them flat as he starts to work his slick finger back inside Theo’s entrance, Theo jolting and gasping and bucking up against him. 

“God,” Theo moans, the word long and drawn-out, one hand dropping to thread into Liam’s hair as Liam presses gentle, close-mouthed kisses to the fluttering muscles of Theo’s lower abdomen. The sweetness of the tiny gestures contrasted with Liam’s fingers—first one, and then soon after two—working in and out of him is strange enough to be strangely arousing, and Theo lifts his free arm up and wraps it around his head so he can bite as his bicep, shuddering.

Liam adds a third finger not long after, Theo apparently relaxed enough from his earlier orgasm—and just plain _desperate_ enough—to take it. The pleasure pooling low in Theo’s gut keeps curling tighter, and tighter, and he’s not the only one, apparently; Liam’s hips are moving restlessly, and his breaths against Theo’s skin are coming out as half-whines, low and quiet and more than a little lupine.

When he glances up at Theo from between his legs, his eyes are flecked with gold.

“Jesus _christ_ , Liam,” Theo swears. “God, _now_.”

Liam hesitates for a second, clearly torn. But after he gives another twist of his three fingers buried inside Theo—Theo jolting and sucking in a sharp breath as Liam brushes up against something that sends _heat_ bolting straight up his spine—Liam apparently satisfies himself that Theo is ready, and scrambles up onto his knees. He has to spend a few comedic seconds frantically glancing around for the lotion bottle, but then he finds it, and gets a probably _too_ generous dollop of it on his palm, and finally, _finally_ slicks himself up, his eyelashes fluttering; Theo watches avidly.

“Okay, okay,” Liam gasps, falling onto all fours over Theo, and then immediately reaching back to take himself in hand. “Okay?” He asks, as he presses his cock to Theo’s entrance.

“Yes, _okay_ ,” Theo snaps, irritated and just _desperate_ for it. “Fucking _okay_ , Liam, jes—”

He cuts off with a sharp inhale, because Liam starts to press inside. Liam groans and has to snap his guiding hand forward so he can brace on it as he keeps pressing forward, Theo gasping and arching his head back and spreading his legs even further to give Liam even more room to press himself flush up against Theo’s ass. 

“Oh my god,” Liam breathes. “ _Oh_ ,” he gasps, long and drawn-out, as his eyes flutter closed again. 

But Theo—Theo just wraps his legs around Liam’s waist, and _moves_.

“Oh, mother _fuck_ —” Liam swears forcefully, dropping down onto his elbows and pressing his hips _hard_ to Theo’s to pin them to the cushions. “Listen, asshole,” he tells Theo, glaring down at him. “Who’s fucking who, here?”

“Oh, were you fucking me?” Theo counters, and arches up against him. “I didn’t _notice_.”

Liam stares at him, his mouth dropping open and his expression twisting with indignation, and then his lips suddenly twitch, and he drops down to bury his face in Theo’s neck as he starts to laugh. 

“Sorry,” he gasps out in between guffaws. “Sorry, it’s just—”

He spends a few more seconds laughing, and then he starts to calm, and when he straightens back up, his expression is more serious; more somber. He brings a hand up, and traces his fingers carefully over Theo’s brow, the curve of his cheek. 

“We’re always going to be us, aren’t we?” He murmurs, and Theo feels his own expression slacken in surprise. 

It could be an insult—it probably _should_ be an insult—but Theo…knows somehow that it isn’t. He feels his own expression twist up, and he brings his own hand up to cradle the side of Liam’s face. 

“Yeah,” he agrees softly. “Yeah, looks like we are.”

Liam smiles at him, wide and helpless, and then he leans down and presses his lips to Theo’s, and kisses him. 

And then he starts to _move_.

Theo gasps and arches his head back, all the sensation and the banked arousal that had momentarily calmed as he and Liam had talked flaring right back into full flame. Liam drops his mouth down to Theo’s neck and _bites_ at the ridge of it, then slides his lips to the side and starts sucking kisses into Theo’s skin; Theo can feel the bruises form, and then heal. 

“Liam, Liam, jesus,” Theo chants, his arms wrapping _tight_ around Liam’s back; his legs tightening as well. 

“Theo,” Liam moans in his ear, like an agreement, the rhythm of his hips stuttering before picking right back up.

Theo isn’t going to last. He was never going to last, not with the force of his own arousal and _definitely_ not with the combined force of Mason’s and Corey’s, too—though that, at least, he absently realizes, is starting to fade—and he can feel himself clenching around Liam, tighter and tighter. 

“Theo, fuck,” Liam swears. “ _Theo_.”

“Yeah,” Theo says, coaxing him on. “Yeah, c’mon, Liam. _Please_.”

Liam groans, and presses his hips flush to Theo’s, and comes. 

And maybe it’s the addition of a _fourth_ person’s pleasure connecting so obviously to his own, but that’s all that Theo needs; he shudders out a helpless cry, and comes, too.

They stay pressed tightly together for a while immediately afterwards, Theo’s arms and legs still wrapped tightly around Liam and Liam’s slick chest still expanding, and contracting, against his own. But finally their breathing starts to slow, and Theo’s pleasure-wiped thoughts at least start to filter back in, and he lets his arms go lax around Liam’s body, and slide slowly to the sides. 

Liam takes it as a cue, and groans, and carefully pulls back, and free of Theo’s body. “Jeeesus,” he opines, and drops back on his heels.

“Jesus,” Theo agrees, and laughs a little breathlessly when Liam looks at him; Liam looks back, and laughs, too.

They head upstairs to get cleaned up—Theo smacking Liam upside the head and making him take the lotion bottle he’d retrieved back with him—and Theo collapses onto his air mattress after he finishes pulling on a pair of sweatpants, his eyelids already feeling heavy. Liam comes out and eyes him skeptically.

“Not that I’m not enjoying the show, but aren’t you cold?” He’d pulled on a shirt—one of Theo’s, of course, so Theo has already mentally written it off as permanently ‘borrowed’—in addition to sweats.

“Fuck off,” Theo says without heat, but the thought—specifically Liam’s use of the word _show_ —reminds him of something. 

He rolls over, and retrieves his phone from the section of floor he’d left in on while it charged. He unlocks it and taps into his messages app, and types out a quick set of texts. 

He’s absorbed enough in it that he misses Liam coming to stand over him, and Liam bends down and swipes his phone before Theo can stop him. “Hey,” Theo protests, and makes a grab for him, but Liam just dances back out of the way, clearly reading the texts he’d just sent.

“Oh, really?” He asks, grinning, and then he suddenly tackles Theo back to the bed, Theo’s phone still in his hand. 

Theo makes a muffled complaint, but is distracted soon enough by Liam’s mouth, leaning up into Liam’s kisses and sliding his hands into Liam’s hair. But then, all at once, Liam suddenly reverses direction and pulls back, twisting around and flopping down next to Theo with Theo’s phone already held up.

Theo realizes what he’s doing, and just barely manages to twist around onto his stomach and pull a pillow over his head as Liam snaps the picture.

He rears up after he hears it click, the pillow already in his hands as he smacks Liam with it. Liam just laughingly fights him off, his fingers still working on Theo’s phone as he clearly sends the photo, until finally he apparently manages whatever he’d been trying to do and tosses it aside, reversing direction to instead tackle Theo again. 

Theo manages to wrestle him back around onto his back, and pins him flat—and still laughing—as he reaches for his phone. He manages to hold Liam there as he gets his phone unlocked, and brings it back in front of himself so he can see what Liam sent. 

He sees his own texts first, and then Mason’s—and Corey’s, apparently—replies:

_**Theo Raeken:** _ **__**_Not that I’m not thrilled that you’re both feeling better_

_**Theo Raeken:** But maybe next time you can CLOSE OFF THE GODDAMN CONNECTION FIRST_

_**Mason Hewitt:** Oh my god, we’re so sorry_

_**Mason Hewitt:** No we’re not_

And then, below them, Liam’s:

_**Theo Raeken:** He’s not actually mad_

And just below it, the picture Liam had taken, Theo on his stomach with his pillow over his head, one arm stretched back to raise a middle finger over his bare back, and Liam grinning wide and smug beside him. 

**Author's Note:**

> All feedback loved! If you liked, please consider a comment or a [reblog](https://eneiryu.tumblr.com/post/614239810163539968/you-were-under-the-bower-with-a-sail-and-a-song)!


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